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Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"


The Professor was so astonished that he nearly bit through his
excellent cigar; but at once a flame sparkled in his grey eyes. If
Dan, with his appearance of robust health, was really a mighty sick
man, why, then, his case challenged attention. He stood up and, so to
speak, spread his wings, hovering over his lawful prey.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"I'm afire with itching. At this moment I feel as if some dev'lish
imps was stickin' needles into me."
The Professor felt his pulse, looked at his tongue, and nodded
sapiently.
"You've been drinking the water of that new spring."
"I hev. I helped open it up."
"Did you drink much of it?"
"Oceans!"
"My poor fellow, I am distressed beyond words. I promise you that you
shall have every care and attention. I won't leave this ranch till--
till the end."
"The end?"
"You are a remarkable specimen--probably you will make a gallant
fight--but I cannot disguise from you--it would be criminal to do so--
that you ought to put your house in order."
"Hav'n't got no house," said Dan, not quite comprehending, but sadly
frightened. "Me and Mame expected to build next year, but that's off.


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